


Halloween Shenanigans

by DraketheDragon



Series: Servant Shenanigans [6]
Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night: Unlimited Blade Works (Anime 2014)
Genre: All Chulainns are disasters, Angst, But they're like - Freeform, Crack, Diarmuid is very much regretting the ski bet, Emiya's costume is his clothes from Extra, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fran's trying her best here, Gen, Genderfluid Fujimaru Ritsuka, Happy Halloween!, He just wanted to rearange his weapons collection, He's just oblivious, I'm stopping now, Its not important in this one but its there, Jalter gets a cameo, M/M, Minor, Minor spoilers for, NO ONE IN CHALDEA IS STRAIGHT, Oblivious Fuuma, Oblivious Mordred, Plot What Plot, RIP Proto 2020, References to Carnival Phantasm, References to Fate/Unlimited Blade Works Abridged, References to Monty Python, Sometimes the Fire Burns too Hot Inside, and a smidgen of, and he got dragged into shenanigans, i said what i said, plus horns and a tail, poor kid, this is just, you know the costume I'm talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27304384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraketheDragon/pseuds/DraketheDragon
Summary: Pffft, it's literally just the title. A bunch of fragments that take place on Halloween day, to the delight or despair of those involved.
Relationships: Cú Chulainn | Lancer (Fate/Prototype)/Fuuma Kotarou | Assassin, Cú Chulainn | Lancer/Heroic Spirit EMIYA | Archer, Frankenstein's Monster | Berserker of Black/Mordred | Saber of Red, Fujimaru Ritsuka/Mash Kyrielight | Shielder, Irisviel von Einzbern/Arturia Pendragon | Saber
Series: Servant Shenanigans [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854901
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	Halloween Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning everyone and Happy Halloween! First off, thank you all so much for everything, you guys are the best! Second off, this is pure indulgence and has absolutely no plot, so you know, fun! Finally, I hope you all enjoy this and have an absolutely wonderfully scary Halloween!

Cu woke up warm and sleepy in a bed that had been recently evacuated. He knew it had been recently evacuated because there was still a dent where Emiya had lain, and he could hear the Archer moving around, softly, quietly, as if he was trying not to wake him. Cu blinked at the alarm clock, at the glowing green digits, mind still fuzzy with sleep. 4 o’clock. What was Emiya doing up at 4 o’clock in the morning? He pushed himself up, scrubbing his face, yawning widely, blankets pooling around his waist. The bathroom light was on, he could see Emiya brushing his teeth, hair still mussed from bed. 

Cu felt a fond smile slip onto his face, and didn't try to hide it, despite the hour. They were both early birds, but this was something. He was almost impressed. “Mornin’, Emiya.”

Emiya glanced at him with his grey and amber and golden eyes, then spat and rinsed. Ah yes, the romanticism of a morning routine, truly a blessing. He looked back at Cu as he washed his toothbrush, “Did I wake you?”

Cu yawned again and stretched, his back popping, playfulness in his tone when he spoke, “What makes you think that?”

A huff of amusement. “Don’t start, it’s too early for that.”

“You’re the one whose up too early, Emiya~”

Emiya rolled his eyes, even as the world’s smallest, most amused smile crossed his lips. By Lugh, the things Cu would do for that smile. Emiya walked over, pressed a kiss to Cu’s forehead, his breath smelled like mint from his toothpaste. “Busy day today.”

“It’s not today,” Cu protested, grabbing Emiya before he could leave and dragging onto the bed, looping an arm around his shoulder and tucking against his side, “It’s tonight. 4 o’clock is excessive, even for you.” He kissed Emiya’s temple, smiled into his hair. He couldn’t help it, sleepy morning kisses and sleepy morning snuggles were the best kind of kisses and snuggles, because they were the ones that said they had all the time in the world, they were the ones that said this wasn’t some type of dream. And as alway, it hit him, just how happy he was with Emiya by his side, in Chaldea, saving the world. The fact that they had this chance was a miracle, especially with their luck.

“Did you forget,” Emiya asked, his eyes glinting playfully in the dark, as he leaned against Cu, “what day it is?” Cu just blinked at him, and he smirked, “It’s Halloween, remember? The kitchen crew and I still have a ton of candies to finish making. Plus the normal breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Cu perked up, Halloween, he’d forgotten, how had he forgotten? CasCu would murder him if he realized that Cu had forgotten “You’re forgiven,” he said, releasing Emiya, although the Archer didn’t move, “do you have your costume?”

“Yes, yes,” Emiya said, rolling his eyes again, uttering with an amused huff, “man-child.”

“Emiya~!”

“Don’t give me that look, I’m simply sayinmph!” Cu kissed him, as needy and pressing as he could summon this early in the morning. Sometimes, and Cu had found this out through many trials and tribulations, the best way to shut Emiya up was with a kiss. Emiya pulled back, gasping for air, eyes gleaming, laughter in his voice, “Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous.”

Cu grinned at him, “But you love me.”

Emiya groaned, a sound full of mock despair, “Don’t remind me.” Cu laughed and watched Emiya get off the bed, began to change, waiting for the reaction he knew would come. He knew it would happen, it was practically routine by now. As predictable as clockwork as soon as Emiya discovered the trigger. “Cu,” and it was the ‘why do I love this man again?’ and the ‘what did I do to deserve this?’ voice that he was using, “What is this?” He turned around, shirt in hand, a look of disbelief and horror on his face, and Cu couldn’t help but grin.

“It’s a shirt, Emiya, use those lovely Archer eyes of yours.”

Emiya looked at him, then looked at the shirt, then back at him, then back at the shirt. “This,” he said, shaking the shirt, “is not a shirt.” Damn it, flirtations and flattery weren’t going to save him this time.

Cu glanced at the shirt. He’d found it in the stacks of the clothing department, forgotten and abandoned by some cruel owner. Personally, he thought it was great, one of the best shirts he’d ever seen. The bursts of purple and yellow, of red and green and black, a wash of blazing colors on a supposedly average button up shirt. Hell, even the buttons defied normal expectations, each one a different color and size. Truly a masterpiece of a shirt. Artwork at it’s finest. “Emiya, I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s obviously a shirt.”

Emiya narrowed his eyes, “This Cu, is an affront to shirts everywhere. It is the eldritch abomination of shirts. No, that’s an insult to eldritch abominations. It is not a shirt at all. These colors shouldn’t even be together -”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who never wears anything besides black or grey.” Cu interjected.

Emiya gave him a look. It was the look. The one that was supposed to be intimidating, but Cu couldn’t help but bask in. “I wore the apron you got me.”

“Once.”

A single raised eyebrow, “You didn’t seem to mind.”

Cu grinned, hungry, “You could wear it a second time.”

Emiya sighed, heavy and regretful. “Stop trying to change the subject Cu. This thing,” he shook the shirt again, “is an abomination, and it shall be treated accordingly and be burned to cinders.”

“Emiya, no!” Cu lunged, flying off the bed, tackling Emiya, knocking him back against the wall, before tumbling to the floor together. For a little bit they struggled, cursing and bickering and laughing, trying to yank the shirt from the other’s hands. Cu ended up on top, straddling Emiya’s waist, shirt held high above his head. “HAH! You shall not burn this! It is a masterpiece!”

“It,” Emiya growled, eyes gleaming with hidden laughter, arms trapped underneath Cu’s legs to prevent his potential retaliation, “is an abomination!”

“Masterpiece!”

“Abomination!”

“Masterpiece!”

“Abomination!”

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE FUCK UP! SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP YOU ASSHOLES!”

Cu burst into wild laughter, rolling off of Emiya, listening to the music of Emiya’s own chuckles. “I don’t think our neighbor is happy with us.” It was a regular occurrence, and if Jalter was truly bothered, she would have either attempted to kill them or petitioned to move to a new room by now.

Emiya snorted, “That’s your fault, you know.”

“No, it’s your fault.” Cu rolled onto his side, grinned happily at Emiya. His eyes were shining, his hair a knotted snarl, a small smile on his lips. Beautiful. Always, always beautiful. “I love you.”

Emiya sighed, his voice warm and affectionate “I love you too, bad taste in shirts and all.” They kissed, softly and happily, gentle and slow, because they truly had all the time in the world now, no Holy Grail War biting at their heels, no enemies at every corner, no bad Masters conniving at their backs, just them, together. Then Emiya pulled away, “But seriously, I have to go.”

“I know,” Cu grumbled, not really upset.

Emiya smiled at him, kissed him again, “Happy Halloween, Cu.”

Cu grinned against his lips, “Happy Halloween, Emiya.”

Cu Chulainn, the Prototype version, known to everyone as Proto, watched his oldest self, fight his Alter self. Verbally fight, at least, because CasCu, for all his tricks and traps and clever little plans, was not able to stand up to Alter in a rage. It was truly a sight to behold, because although CasCu tried to act mature and old and wise, Alter was the calmest of the Chulainns, Berserker or not. It was a rarity to see him get worked up over something, and Proto was going to enjoy any minute of it. 

“I am not dressing up,” Alter growled. It was an impressive growl, with all his very sharp, very white teeth flashing on display.

“Nonsense,” CasCu said, arms crossed and eyes burning, “You’re a Chulainn, and as a Chulainn, you love Halloween. Mad King, Alter, Berserker, or not. Trust me, we know.” And the funny thing was, it was true. Proto himself had seen Alter staring starry-eyed at the decorations Gudao had begun hanging up weeks prior. “You,” CasCu continued, “don’t get a choice.” 

“Yeah,” Proto added, “and this costume only works with three people anyway.” He gave his flimsy rapier a flick, watched the blade quiver in the air. “On guard.” He held it up, watching the light play off the blade, grinning at his other selves as he pretended to fight invisible enemies.

CasCu turned to Alter again, “See? Even the brat’s getting worked up.” He ignored Proto’s indignant ‘Hey!’ and held up the outfit. When he spoke next, it was his ‘you will do what I say or I will set your room on fire’ voice. “Put. It. On. Or,” a faint smirk, “I’ll get Gudao.”

Alter, after sending a furious glare at both CasCu and Proto, grabbed the outfit, face scrunched up and teeth bared in displeasure. The Third Musketeer had been recruited, and in four hours, they would be ready for battle.

Artoria hummed as she worked with Irisviel’s hair, twining the silken strands over and over in her hands. It amazed her sometimes how Irisviel could stand to have so much, Artoria’s only fell to her shoulders, if a little bit past that, and it was still maddening to deal with. “I can not believe that you have never done your hair before,” she murmured, taking the pins and beginning the coil at the base of Irisviel’s neck.

“I’ve never needed too,” Irisviel said, light and amused, “but thank you for offering.”

“As if I needed an excuse to play with your hair,” she leaned forwards and dropped a kiss across the white strands, smiling slightly. It was times like this that she marvelled the fact that she had this opportunity, something she’d believed beyond her grasp. To just . . . be with someone, herself and no one else. It was wonderful, almost as wonderful as the woman in front of her.

Irisviel tilted her head back and beamed, ruby eyes sparkling, “I know.” Then she grabbed her top hat, placed it carefully atop her head, and stood, twirling around. “How did I look?”

“Beautiful, as always.” And it was true, Irisveil looked wonderful in her ringleader’s costume, the tight red jacket with double rows of golden buttons and the twin tails, the short black pants with golden buttons up the sides, the dark grey tights and the red heeled shoes. But her delighted smile and gleaming ruby eyes were better than the whole costume put together. “No doubt the most lovely ringleader Chaldea has ever seen.”

She giggled, soft and ecstatic, and Artoria’s heart nearly melted at the sound. “Artoria you flatterer.”

“You deserve it, my lady.” That and more, anything to make her happy.

Another giggle. “Well, are you ready for your costume?” There was a trace of mischief in her voice, sharp and under the supposed softness. It was the same trace of mischief and eagerness she got when she saw a car, or had some plan in mind, one that no one could convince her not to go through with.

Artoria tilted her head, raised an eyebrow, her instincts ringing loud in her mind. “Should I be worried?”

And Irisviel’s only answer was to giggle again. 

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne stared at his two friends and regretted his life choices. He wasn’t sure how the ski-race bet had turned into . . . this. He decided to take the less dangerous path first. He turned to Mordred and Mordred’s Halloween outfit. “That’s not a dress.”

Mordred smirked at him, eyes flashing a challenge. “It reaches past my knees.”

“That is because you’re tiny and you got the clothing department to make you a costume for a person my size.” He glanced at the recreation of King Arthur’s armor from Monty Python and the Holy Grail with barely disguised despair. “That is not to say the potential hazards if Artoria sees you.”

Mordred grinned, “Father already saw me! Her eyes twitched, but she had no room to speak, considering what Irisviel forced her into.” Two weeks after their talk, the relationship between father and son was no longer as strained nor filled with panic attacks or eruptions of anger. In fact, it was slowly, slowly building into something that could actually be called healthy. Part of that was thanks to Irisviel, Achilles, Cu, and him, because Lugh forbade Artoria or Mordred actually deciding to face their problems of their own accord for once. “Besides, I think the real problem here is Achilles’ outfit.”

Diarmuid was trying to ignore that. It was very hard to ignore.

“Hey!” Achilles protested, “I said I would wear a bunny suit! I am wearing a bunny suit!”

“I thought you meant something akin to the Easter bunny suit. Not a casino bunny suit.” Diarmuid said, pinching his nose. If he’d known Achilles had meant a casino bunny suit, then Diarmuid would have never agreed to the bet thing. Or brought it up.

“I think I look pretty good in it.” Achilles said, which was a problem because he did, “besides, at least it’s not boring like yours.”

Diarmuid counted to ten and wished for patience. “It’s not boring.” He said, “it’s a classic.” He was a mad scientist, lab coat, safety glasses, gloves, and all. He even had vials of liquid on his belt. He wasn’t going to tell them that it was different types of alcohol, each glowing a different color in a way that was faintly ominous. He would probably need them before the night was done.

“It’s boring.” Achilles and Mordred said at once.

Why did he agree to go trick or treating with these two again?

Oh yes, because Cu had dumped them to do a couples thing with Emiya, and Artoria was doing a couples thing with Irisviel, and like hell was he going to go trick or treating with Fionn. Achilles and Mordred were his only choices. 

When had his life come to this?

“You should grow out your hair,” Astlofo said, even though they were servants and their hair could not grow out, “It would look great. You could weave flowers through it, and daisy chains and all sorts of things. Stones. Gemstones. Glittery bits of metal. Chains. Ribbons. Bows.”

“Uh.” Fran said it noncommittally, although she liked the idea. But she was already getting a flower crown today, one with roses and lavender and myrtle, pinks and purples and blues, with white ribbons dangling past her face, anything else would be too much. She knew the flowers Astolfo had picked, their names, their colors, what they symbolized, just as she knew anatomy and psychology, facts committed to memory when books were the only ones who would speak to her.

But she was no longer alone, shunned for what she could not control, with only words for company.

Astolfo hopped back, a smile on their face. “How does it look?”

_ Good, _ Fran signed.

Astolfo beamed wider, the skirt of their red checkered dress bouncing as they shifted from foot to foot. They were Red Riding Hood today, all smiles and cheer, with a basket of goodies ready to be delivered. And Fran? She was to be something she’d never been before, something beautiful and magical, something not monstrous like her. “Ok~!” Astolfo sang, “Are you ready for the makeup?”

No, she wasn’t, she wasn’t sure if she could trust Astolfo with such implements close to her face, but the Rider, insane they may be, was good with fashion. So she nodded and closed her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to see. She could hear Astolfo humming, could feel the brush against her eyelids and cheeks. Eventually, Astolfo started singing some upbeat, cheerful song, and Fran listened to that instead of focusing on what Astolfo was doing to her face. Finally, they pulled back. “You’re done~.”

Fran opened her eyes, and stared at the mirror. Her hair had been pulled back, the white ribbons brushing her cheeks, the flowers a circle around her head, making the horn look softer, less dangerous. Colors had been drawn over her eyelids, browns and greens, forestry colors, spiraling past her eyes with bursts of leaves and smaller dots of color that might have been more flowers. Her cheeks glimmered under the light, shimmering faintly, her lips had been darkened, just a bit to be noticeable.

No longer Frankenstien’s Monster, now a mystical creature of legend.

_ It looks wonderful, Astolfo, _ She signed, watching a small smile flit across her lips and stay in place. 

Astolfo giggled, “Of course it does.” They turned around, rushed back, holding a pair of gauzy wings. “Last bit!”

Fran stood, her dress rustling softly with the movement, then took the wings and shrugged them on.  _ How do I look? _

“You look great!” They winked, a mischievous smile passing over their lips. “Go get him, tiger!”

Fran laughed, gentle and soft.  _ That’s the hope. _

Cu adjusted the tie, loosening it before unbuttoning his collar and rolling up his sleeves. “You know,” he said, “I don’t look quite as ridiculous as I thought I would.” He adjusted his ears and made a face, not sure how Emiya had convinced him into this get up.

Oh, right, because Emiya had refused to go trick or treating unless he got to choose the costumes.

Manipulative bastard.

“Of course you don’t,” Emiya said from their bedroom, “You make a good hellhound.”

“Shut it, Satan,” Cu shot at him, “I ain’t no hellhound.”

He could practically hear Emiya’s eyeroll. “Hellwolf doesn’t roll off the tongue as well. Are you going to come out here or not?”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He loosened his tie just a little bit more, popped open another button, tugged at the gloves, adjusted the tail, and walked out of the bathroom. “I swear, if any of my other selves see me like thi -” His jaw dropped, his brain stopped working. “Holy shit.”

Emiya rolled his eyes again, lips twisting in an amused smirk. “What?”

“Marry me.”

His smirk widened. “Depends, are you serious this time?”

“I was serious last time!” Emiya laughed and Cu nearly collapsed at the sound. “Stop,” he choked out, “If you continue, I literally might die.” Then, another thought, “Are those my pants?”

Emiya laughed again, and this time, Cu had to sit down. Regretting letting Emiya choose the costumes? Nope. Not at all. Not anymore. “Yes,” Emiya said, amusement tracing his features, “Who else would have leather pants in my size?”

“Never saw the jacket before.” His voice sounded way too strangled. 

Emiya crossed his arms, “Now you’re just trying to avoid the obvious.”

Cu stopped avoiding the obvious. “No shirt?”

A devilish smile, “Are you complaining?”

“No,” Cu managed to collect his scattered thoughts, “Just debating what I want more.”

“Oh?”

Cu leaned forwards, grinning, eyes glowing. “Halloween, or you. And I must say, Emiya~” a dark growl, “you make it very hard to choose.”

Kotarou was running, running as fast as possible, which for him, was very fast indeed. Normally, when encountering a situation he wanted to avoid, he would have simply hid, disappeared, but against these two, that would not help. So he was running, hoping his greater speed would allow him to escape. Behind him, there was the sound of laughter, one of his pursuers hot on his heels. 

He threw himself around the upcoming corner, wind tugging at his hair and clothes. A couple more hallways, doors flashing past, he knew this area well, knew that, if he ducked through this corridor here, there was a doorway that connected to the labs, which he could then use to double back and disappear. Just a little bit longer, and he would be free. He turned -

-and hit something, hard, tall, clothed. Claws grabbed his shoulders, he was lifted up slightly, he could hear a voice, deep and rough and gravelly, “Look where you’re going.” Then he was released, his feet hit the ground.

Kotarou rocked back on his heels, resisting the urge to panic. “Ah! . . . Sorry.” He could feel his cheeks heating up, ducked his head, glanced through his bangs. Alter was frowning vaguely, CasCu was watching him with a smirk, and Proto was staring at him wide-eyed, as if Kotarou’s presence was completely unexpected. All three were wearing variations of what he assumed was the Three Musketeer costume, rapiers at their waists. They were blocking his escape, and he couldn’t fall back, doom waited for him there.

“You know,” CasCu drawled, “that we aren’t supposed to be running in the hallways? Not today, at least.”

“Ah . . . I know.” He glanced behind him, nothing, not yet, he turned back. “Could . . . ah . . . could you let me through please?” He tried on a smile, and Proto made a strangled sound in the back of his throat while CasCu snickered and Alter sighed heavily.

Proto kicked Cascu, cleared his throat, and glanced at Kotarou, “Is everything alright?” He still sounded strangled, embarrassed, and Kotarou had no time to find out why.

“Ah . . . hai. I just need to get through.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, struggling with the urge to grab one of his kunai and fidget with it. He was just . . . so bad at talking to people outside of combat, and he hated it when people watched him. Disappearing was better, knowledge was better, doing his job was better than being watched when he didn’t need to be watched, being approached when he didn’t need to be approached.

“Wait!” It was a girl's voice, high and shrill, and Kotarou froze, blood draining from his face. Oh no. He hadn’t made it. “Don’t let him go!” Jack skidded to a stop a few feet away, her white hair a snarl of tangles, breath coming out in little puffs. “He keeps on running away from us!” Behind her, Alice appeared at a more sedate pace, eyes narrowed and focused.

He was doomed, utterly and completely doomed. His only hope lay in the Chulainn’s, and well, he knew that the Chulainn’s liked Halloween too much to help him in his plight. It had been the only thing Proto had talked about last rotation, heck, he even managed to question Kotarou about what he was dressing up as.

Kotarou hadn’t replied ‘nothing’, although it had been at the tip of his tongue. His plan had been to rearrange his weapons collection tonight, to hide while everyone else had fun. 

A plan that had just fallen into ruin.

“And why,” CasCu asked, eyes glinting, “does he keep on running from you?”

“Because he’s going to dress up with us,” Alice said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

“You are?” Proto blurted out, still staring at him, and Kotarou shook his head rapidly. 

“Ah . . . no, I’m . . . no.”

“Yes, he is.” Alice said, “we need a third person, and Lilly is trick or treating with Bedivere and Lancelot. Fuuma is the only one who is around our age.”

CasCu burst into laughter, Alter sighed heavily again while Proto made a strangled, horrified noise. “YOU ARE?!”

“No!” Kotarou blurted out, feeling the heat crawl over his cheeks again. He was eighteen, it wasn’t his fault he was small!

“Hilarious,” CasCu said, as soon as his laughter had petered out, “What are you guys going to dress up as?”

“Cats!” Jack burst out, giggling delightedly.

“Well,” Alice said, tapping her foot, “we were going to do the Three Little Pigs, but that would require a wolf, and Jack didn’t want to be a pig, so yes, we’re cats instead.”

“That’s not too bad,” Proto managed, vocal chords back under control. “You should do it, Fuuma!” He grinned at the smaller teen, and Kotarou could have cursed. He’d been right, there would be no help from them.

“I have things to do.” He protested, and then, because he was desperate and CasCu had moved forwards when speaking to Jack and Alice and now there was a gap, Kotarou lunged forwards, so fast he wasn’t even a blur. He stopped by two arms, one belonging to Proto, the other belonging to a scowling Alter.

“If I,” the Berserker growled, “had to dress up, you have to dress up.”

“Besides,” Proto grinned again, “how bad can it be?”

Mordred hadn’t expected his Halloween to go like  _ this _ . He stared at his bag, at the flyers Leonidas had shoved into it with a grin and something about ‘Spartan Training Regimen’. “I hope Nightingale isn’t around. I think she would go on a murder rampage from all the candy.” Because, yes, underneath the flyers was candy.  _ Lots  _ of candy.

Diarmuid sighed, “We should avoid the infirmary just in case.”

Achilles shrugged, “Yeah, probably for the best.” A beat, “Hey, is that Fran?”

Mordred stopped and looked, and yes, it was Fran headed their way, in a flowery dress with wings and a flower crown and what looked like a forestry mural painted across her face. Her blue and amber eyes shone with determination, a small smile graced her lips. Mordred waved, “Hey Fran, nice costume!”

_ Thanks, _ she signed, her eyes brightening,  _ yours two.  _

Mordred grinned, “Damn straight it is.”

She glanced at him, then at Diarmuid and his boring outfit, then at Achilles and what he wore, winced, then signed,  _ Would you like to go trick or treating with me? _

“ _ Thank _ God!” Mordred exclaimed, “I  _ swear _ , if I have to look at Achilles one more time, I’m gonna go blind!  _ You,  _ Fran, are my fucking  _ hero _ !”

“Mordred,” Diarmuid hissed, “you can’t leave me to suffer alone.”

“Hey!” Achilles complained, “There is nothing wrong with my costume!”

But Mordred was already running away, grabbing Fran’s arm, and towing her with him. “Come on, let's get out of here and have some fun!”

Fran giggled, turned back to send one thumbs up in Achilles’ and Diarmuid’s direction, then allowed the small Saber to drag her with him. Achilles sighed, “I can’t wait to tell CasCu and Marie.”

“Achilles.” A warning tone.

“Fine, fine.” A pause, “Mordred has no clue, does he?”

“Nope,” Diarmuid said, grabbing one of his vials and draining it in one gulp, “Not at all.”

Mash fidgeted with her mask, “How do I look, Senpai?” She knew how she felt, a bit silly, a bit exposed, but Gudao sent her a look and a thumbs up, and warmth burst in her chest at the sight.

“You, Mash my friend, make a wonderful Captain America!” He grinned, wide and delighted, adjusting his coat. “How do I look?”

Perfect, amazing, wonderful, “Green, gold and black, suit you, Senpai,” she said instead, and Gudao beamed wider. Although, in all honesty, it was odd to see him in something that wasn’t his Master’s uniform or a shirt with a funny saying on it. 

“Good,” he adjusted his helmet, messed with the large, overbalanced horns, then said in an almost hesitant voice, “Hey Mash, we have enough quartz for a summons, right?”

“Hai.”

“Do you think,” he said slowly, “that we should try a summons tonight? I know a lot of people are already out and about, and it would be a good time for any newly summoned Servants to meet people and get a good grip of the place. Besides,” his face brightened, “It’s Halloween! It’s the perfect atmosphere to greet people!”

Mash wasn’t sure of that, but they hadn’t had any new arrivals since Fran’s summon, if another variation of Liz wasn’t counted. A new face, or a couple, would be a welcome change. “I don’t see how it can hurt.”

Gudao’s face lit up, “Wonderful! Come on, let's go!” Laughing, he left the room, brandishing his foam spear with the glowing blue gem, and Mash followed, slinging her shield across her back.

The atmosphere today was cheary, and she loved the variations she saw, the smiling faces, the delighted eyes. There was Cu and Emiya, hand in hand, Cu in a suit with ears and a tail and glowing red marks drawn across his face and Emiya in . . . Mash wasn’t even going to think of chaldea’s biggest mom in something like that. There was Irisviel, in a ringleader’s costume, arm’s linked with Artoria, who wore a lion onesie with a fond, indulgent expression on her face. There was Kotarou, flanked on both sides by Jack and Alice, with Proto, Alter, and CasCu behind them, obviously there to prevent the ninja’s escape. There was Fran, in a forest fairy outfit, walking with Mordred whose King Arthur attire had probably caused many horrific memories to resurface. There was a long suffering Diarmuid, draining a glowing vial while Achilles strutted beside him in something that was more fishnet then cloth. There was Lilly, dashing down the hall with Bedivere and Lancelot in tow, in a rock, paper, scissors group costume. There was Romani, dressed up as a vampire, talking to Da Vinci who wore some sort of roman toga. It was a whirl of laughter and smiles and colors and Mash could feel her heart lift with each step.

She’d never had a Halloween before, and this was nice, better than expected.

“Here!” Gudao cried, pushing open the doors to the summoning chamber. “You know,” he said conversationally, “I’m not expecting much.”

Mash giggled, “Trying to bait karma hasn’t been working well for you so far.”

He stuck his tongue out at her, and she tried to ignore how such a silly action could make her so happy. “Well, I’m persistent, and besides, my luck has to change eventually. Come on, let's get this thing working.” A few minutes later, they were stepping back, watching the light build and build, brighter and brighter, and Mash watched Gudao instead of the burning light. The eagerness painted across his features, the hope that shone in his eyes. There was a flash, bright and painful, and when the spots cleared, Gudao whistled, low and surprised. “Well,” he said, “there goes my luck for the next year.”   
  


“Do you think he’s okay?” Muttered Proto nervously, twisting his hands over and over as he paced the length of the room. Occasionally he would glance towards the room where Jack and Alice were ruthlessly putting Fuuma through Halloween hell, eyes wide and worried.

Alter vaguely wondered why no one had ever connected the dots before, but that was probably because Proto had been very careful about not being seen in Fuuma’s presence.

CasCu flicked a hand dismissively, “Eh, he’s probably fine, it’s not like they're torturing him or anything.” A sly smile, wide and teasing, and Alter could sense the brewing argument like a storm on the horizon, “But it’s nice that you’re worried about him.” It was practically a song, and the reaction was predictable.

“I’M NO -” The words were a screech before Proto bit them off, face flaming, “I’m not worried about him, Fuuma is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”

“Gosh,” CasCu said, leaning forwards slightly, hands on his hips, “I don’t remember being such a disaster. Can you even feel your face? It is literally redder than,” a pause and another sly grin, the next words were murmured, “Fuuma’s hair.”

Proto made a furious, embarrassed sound, trapped somewhere between his throat and his teeth, eyes flashing with the challenge, mouth opening to make some kind of retort.

Alter tuned them out, he wasn’t feeling like playing mediator today. In all honesty, this wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d been summoned to Chaldea. He was the Mad King, a weapon to be used with Gudao’s orders, and instead of being met with thinly veiled disgust or fear, he’d been met with open arms and a smile, and two other versions of himself who’d decided that as a Chulainn, he couldn’t be that bad, and they would find the good parts of him if it took everything they had.

And, stupid, annoying idiots that they were, they had managed. 

Somehow.

The door burst open, and Alice walked in, a too mature look on her face. Her skirts were puffy, her ears were kittonishly huge, and her tail swayed as if it was a real one. Perhaps she had used her magic. Alter wouldn’t put it past her. Jack followed, in jeans and a t-shirt, with ragged alley-cat ears and a similarly beaten up tail. “We,” Alice said in her childish voice, “present to you -”

“- the third member of our Critical Catastrophe -” Jack burst in, and Alter allowed himself a momentary burst of sympathy for the name before locking it away never to be discovered again.

“Fuuma Kotarou!” They finished together, waving their hands in glee.

No one appeared.

Jack sighed, ears drooping, “Sorry, our third member has stage fright, give us a sec.” The two darted inside the room, and came out a few seconds later with a furiously blushing Fuuma. “Fuuma Kotarou!” Jack sang again, and Alice giggled momentarily.

Proto made a choking noise, and although Alter couldn’t see the appeal himself, he was going to guess that noise meant that Proto was not so indifferent to the tight high necked tank top-jeans-cat ears-cat tail-cat collar with bell thing. Although it was probably just the tank top, because Alter was pretty sure he’d never seen the small ninja wear something so skin tight. And then Alice smiled, sharp and mischievous, and on a hunch, Alter snuck a glance at CasCu, who looked way too smug. Understanding hit. The kids were on payroll. Alter wondered what CasCu had promised them, then decided it probably didn’t matter. Besides, it was too late to prevent disaster. “Come on Fuuma,” she chirped, eyes bright, “you have to do it with us!”

“Do what?” Fuuma murmured in the smallest, most embarrassed mumble Alter had ever heard.

“You know, like nya!” Jack tilted her head and stuck out her tongue, eyes bright with hidden humor. They were terrors, the both of them, and Alter was slowly shifting from indifference towards amusement.

“Do I?” Fuuma mumbled, even quieter.

“Yes.” Alice said, firmly.

He sighed, then, face flaming, glanced away, took a deep breath, then turned back, blush still evident but under control now, and when he spoke, his voice was no longer a quiet mumble, but a confident purr. “You know, like, nya.” He tilted his head, one eye was revealed, his ears twitched, he even smiled.

Alter was just fast enough to turn his head in time to watch Proto’s whole face light up, stumble back and trip over his own feet, then run out of the room with his hand covering his mouth, fast as only a Chulainn could. He would be fine. Probably. Alter turned back to where CasCu had fallen over laughing, to where Jack and Alice were bent over in giggles.

Fuuma just looked confused, “Is he okay?”

Alter sighed, “He’ll be fine.”

“Ah . . . good. We have rotation tomorrow . . . ah . . . it would be a shame if he missed it because he wasn’t feeling well.”

“He’ll be there.” Alter grumbled, certain of that, at least. Although, if Proto would be able to look Fuuma in the face was another answer. Honestly, how was Alter a variation of those two, three if he included Cu, which he did, idiots?

Gudao walked the halls, cheerfully waving at those who greeted him. “And this is the kitchen,” he said, grinning, “We can stop by, see how they’re doing, I know Bodica and Tamamo were going to hand out candy today.”

“Oh?” The newest Berserker, Minamoto no Raiko, said, her voice lilting with interest, “Servants work in the kitchens?”

“Only the ones that are interested,” Mash listed, “The main ones, the Chaldean Kitchen Crew, are Bodica, Tamamo, Tamamo-cat, and Emiya. I’m sure they would appreciate the help!” Mash looked up and beamed at her.

Raiko hummed thoughtfully, “I just might, it would certainly be nice to help feed everyone.”

“Just the staff, I presume,” the Archer who had asked to be called Professor said, “as Servants don’t need to eat.”

“Nonsense,” Gudao said, turning around, walking backwards, grinning at them. “Everyone partakes, and the food is delicious!”

“Senpai, be careful, you’re coat will get tangled up in you-”

“Bodica!” Twin squeals of glee, twin blurs speeding past them into the kitchens, a third red blur being dragged behind them.

Gudao stopped, “Kotarou?” He could have sworn the ninja was planning to hide all day.

“Where those,” the third new servant, Atalanta, asked, “children?” Her ears and tails were twitching, her eyes tracking the path they took.

Gudao stopped, “Yeah, they were, Jack and Alice. Don’t let them deceive you, their conniving little kids.” He grinned.

“Heroic spirits?” She frowned, even as Professor raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Do they go on rotation?” There was something in her voice, a thread of danger that ran through it, that made the question seem more important then it should have been.

Gudao shrugged, even as Mash stiffened. “Yeah, they do. But I always make sure to deploy them with someone I know will keep an eye on them. Chiron and Hercules mostly, both of them have a soft spot for kids. Will this be a problem, Atalanta?”

She hesitated, “No, as long as they are safe, then no.”

Raiko placed a hand on the Archer’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, if I am ever employed with them, I will make sure they are safe.” She smiled, something sweet and terrifying at the same time, madness flashing in the depths of her eyes. “After all, what mother would let harm come to a child?”

Professor watched them as if they were a piece of a puzzle, like he’d been watching everyone they’d passed on their journey through the halls. Dangerous, Gudao had met enough Servants with that gaze to know that. But dangerous was fine, as long as he didn’t try to hurt them, then dangerous was fine. Gudao smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

Atalanta looked at him, “Yes, I would.”

Mordred stared at his haul. “Come  _ on  _ Boudica, you can give me more than  _ that _ .”

Bodica chuckled, “You already have a bag full of candy, Mordred. Anymore and I would be afraid of your sugar rush.”

Fran tugged at his arm, and Mordred turned to look at her.  _ You’ll be fine, besides, we’ve yet to hit the library. _

“They’ll just give us books,” he grumbled, but he stepped back from Bodica anyway. From behind the Rider, Tamamo appeared, a plate of fresh cookies in her hand. Mordred’s mouth watered. “ _ At _ least one cookie, come on, just  _ one _ .”

“One,” Tamamo said, smiling as she passed it over. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

Mordred grabbed it and shoved it into his mouth, ignoring the proclaimed ‘it’s still hot’ and delighting in the warm gooyiness of the chocolate. He could hear Fran giggling lightly beside him as she grabbed her own cookie. “Bodica!” It was a cry of delight, twin blurs burst into the room, the doors banged open, Mordred turned, almost summoned his armor and Clarent - only to see Jack and Alice skid to a halt, Kotarou behind them. “Trick or Treat!” They presented their bags with grins, and wide, pleading eyes, while Kotarou shrank back, trying to hide behind his hair.

Mordred stared at the ninja,  _ “Dude, are you okay?” _ He shook his head numbly,  _ “Want me to make a distraction?”  _ A nod,  _ “You’ll have to give me your candy,”  _ a shrug, and Mordred decided to take that as an affirmative. He nudged Fran with his elbow,  _ “We’re going to help Kotarou escape.” _

Fran glanced at him, glanced at Kotarou, then giggled an affirmative, eyes glinting with delight. 

Then the doors banged open again, and Gudao entered with Mash and three other Servants behind him, greeting everyone with a cheerfully, “Hey ya’ll!” 

Several things happened at once. 

_ One _ , Jack’s face paled and she jerked away from Kotarou and Alice, tripping over her own feet and tumbling backwards. 

_ Two _ , Bodiaca yanked the iron pot which held the candies out of her way. 

_ Three _ , the blond woman with cat ears lunged forwards, a green blur to catch her. 

_ Four _ , Kotarou took the opportunity to escape. 

_ Five _ , Jack stabbed the blond woman, screaming, “THAT WAS FOR MOMMY.”

_ Six _ , Mordred’s armor snapped into place over his fake armor, and he pointed at the woman in green yelling, “ _ Hey _ , you’re Archer of Red! The one that had a grudge against Ruler!”

_ Seven _ , Mash yanked the shield off her back, ready for action

_ Eight _ , Gudao yelled, “HEY EVERYONE, CALM THE FUCK DOWN.” Silence was  _ immediate _ , Everyone turned to Gudao, who stood there with his hands on his hips. “Armor off, knives away.” Mordred deconstructed his armor, and Jack slowly drew the knife out of the Archer’s shoulder and let it disappear. “Okay, okay. Everyone take a deep breath, and let’s restart this, okay?”

Atalanta released Jack, standing, ignoring the blossom of red spreading across her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Jack stared at her furiously, scrubbed her streaming eyes, and muttered something that sounded a lot like “Fine,” before scuttling over to Alice’s side.

“Here,” Tamamo said, “let me get that for you,” she set her plate aside, reached over and pressed her hand against Atalanta’s shoulder, watching the wound as it knitted back together.

“You two, take a cookie,” Bodica said, passing the plate over to Alice and Jack. Alice took one swiftly, Jack more sullenly.

“Are we good now?” Gudao asked, “or at least a bit better?” Nods all around, and Mash slipped her Captain America shield onto her back a bit awkwardly. “Good, that’s good. Everyone, meet Raiko, Professor, and Atalanta. You three meet Bodica, Tamamo, Jack, Alice, Mordred, and Fran. And . . . uh . . . Kotarou is no longer here, but I think you managed to see him before he escaped.”

“Great,” Alice said, “There goes the third member of the Critical Catastrophe.” She pouted, then pointed at Atalanta, “You’ll just have to join our group for the night.”

“Alice,” Jack hissed, only to shut up when the Caster glared at her.

“Don’t ‘Alice’ me Jack, you know we can’t let previous summons get in the way of this summon. Master,” she turned to Gudao and smiled, “I will make sure nothing goes wrong as we conduct the tour and go trick or treating at the same time.”

Gudao huffed a laugh, and some of the tension was lifted from the air. “Very well, it seems I’ve been out maneuvered. You can have her, if that's okay with you, Atalanta?”

“Uh, yes Master, it is.” She said a bit numbly.

“Okie Dokie then, does anyone else have anything they want to say?”

“Yeah,” Mordred said, raising a finger, “Can I have another cookie?” Fran glared at him, lips twitching in amusement. “ _ What _ , I’m hungry.”

_ You’re always hungry,  _ She turned to Guado, signed more slowly,  _ Conducting the tour? _

“Hai,” Mash said, “Senpai thought it would be a good idea to summon tonight, and to let everyone who was summoned have a fun time.” She glanced at Alice, who was determinately dragging both Jack and Atalanta out of the room speaking rapidly about one thing or another. Jack still had her cookie in her hand, a pout on her face. Atalanta looked like she was focused on every word the young Caster was saying. “Ah, so far it’s been going good? Despite this one incident.”

“Well,” Mordred shrugged, “you  _ could  _ say it was -”

_ Don’t you dare. _

Mordred cracked a grin, “ - only a flesh wound.”

Universal groaning commenced. 

“Well,” said Raiko, “I’m certain things can only get better from here. Do you mind if I steal one of you for a bit to speak about joining the kitchen crew? Growing children must be fed, after all.”

“Ah,” Tamamo shook her head, smiled, “You could talk to me while Bodica distributes candy. Come on, back here for some peace and quiet.” She bowed, stepped back, and Raiko followed her with an odd look in her eye that Mordred didn’t like  _ at all _ .

“Speaking of candy,” Guado said, eyes brightening, “can I have some Bodica?” He held his bag out, and Mash, with a small giggle, held hers out as well.

“Is it always so tumultuous here?” The last man, the one Guado had called Professor asked, and Mordred could feel alarms ringing in his head. “I would imagine it must be, with all these Heroic Spirits running about. Some must have been enemies in life.” And Mordred  _ didn’t  _ like the look in his blue eyes, cold and calculating. It reminded him  _ too  _ much of  _ Morgana  _ when she had a plot in motion.

_ Chaldea,  _ Fran signed out carefully,  _ is full of different people, of course there will be occasional disagreements. But those disagreements do not affect how well we do in battle, so you don’t have to worry about that Papa -  _ Her hands froze, her eyes widened, her mouth opened then closed then opened again. “Uh! Sorry . . . didn’t . . . mean . . .”

Professor had frozen, his face gone slack behind his glasses. 

Gudao and Mash still chatted with Bodica, oblivious.

_ “Why did you say that?!” _ Mordred shrieked mentally.

“Uh.” A wild trace of panic beneath the word.

_ “What do you mean he reminds you of your father?!” _

“Uh!”

Slowly, Professor blinked, life returning to his face. “Me,” he said, stunned, “a Papa?” Then glee transformed his features, his eyes brightening with delight. “Did you hear that Master? I’m a father!”

Fran made a surprised noise in the back of her throat. Mordred could feel his jaw drop. A  _ week and a half  _ before he managed to speak to Father. Another  _ two  _ before his anger had completely faded away. A  _ fourth  _ before he was able to joke and laugh and be on stable grounds and a road to recovery. And  _ now _ , Fran, who’d been abandoned by her own father, had just basically been adopted by this  _ random  _ Servant who just got summoned, who was alerting  _ every  _ instinct Mordred had, who  _ hadn’t  _ even told Guado his proper name. 

_ What  _ even was his life?

CasCu collapsed onto his bed, setting down his bulging bag of candy and snatching the remote off of the bedside table. He set the tv to the horror movie he’d been watching last night, then grabbed the bag and dumped the contents onto the bed. A shit ton of candies? Check. A hilariously embarrassed Proto that could be used for blackmail purposes and gossip? Check. Runes placed on certain walls that would project the illusions of ghosts walking down the halls at certain times of night? Check. Seeing Emiya in a ridiculously exposed costume? Check. Seeing Alter actually smile, not his shark teeth hungry one, but a happy smile? Check. Having a great time and loving every second of it? Check.

And now it was over, and he was alone in his room counting his loot away from Proto and Alter’s prying hands, with The Conjuring playing in the background. He’d have to beg Da Vinci for the security tapes later, just in case somebody did run into his fake ghosts. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t take too much convincing, she was normally on his side when it came to pranks. He began to separate his candies, he had to give half his haul to Alice and Jack for going along with his plan, but he had still made out like a bandit. Shame Georgios hadn’t been there to take any pictures. Proto’s reaction had been priceless.

On screen, someone screamed. CasCu didn’t jump, he’d already seen this movie, in fact, he’d been through Chaldea’s collection of horror movies at least three times by now, even the really bad ones. He’d also been through the Library’s collection of horror novels at least twice. And Shakespear had promised him a horror play eventually, and Anderson had been bribed a couple times for a few spooky short stories.

Yes, CasCu loved halloween, but that wasn’t why he did this, watching the movies or reading the books at night. He needed something . . . entertaining, attention grabbing, to keep his mind from wandering. And scary tales fit the bill perfectly. “You can’t shoot a ghost,” he said as it was spoken on the tv, feeling the grin curl across his lips as he shoved Alice and Jack’s part back into the bag. He grabbed a chocolate, unwrapped it, and popped into his mouth, watching the screen.

So no, he didn’t do this because he loved Halloween, he did this because he didn’t want to dream.

He’d known from the beginning that Master and Servant could share their histories and dreams when they slept, but he hadn’t known copies of the same Servant could share dreams. Not until it started happening to them. Proto dreamed of battle, almost always battles, and occasionally of Scatheth’s training. Alter dreamed of America, of Chaldea, of twisted versions of everyone around him. He didn’t know what Cu dreamed off, he’d rarely slept since the Lancer had arrived in Chaldea, he didn’t want to know what his last self dreamed about, didn’t want him to know what CasCu dreamed about.

He ate another piece of candy, ready for another night of nothing but movies and books and Solitaire. But then again, he doubted Cu would get much sleep tonight, he wouldn’t have if he’d been in the Lancer’s place. Should he risk it? He stared at the screen, watched the characters follow their script. He could quote them word for word now, knew every jump scare by heart. He would end up falling asleep at this rate anyway. With a sigh, he got up, scooping his candy into a bowl and setting it atop his mini fridge. Alice and Jack’s portion he set on the floor by the door, so he wouldn’t forget to give it to them tomorrow. He fell back onto the bed, clicked off the television, and closed his eyes.

Only to be immediately greeted by the vision of a flaming city and a hawk yellow gaze.


End file.
